


flutter of an eyelash

by deathsweetqueen



Series: Marvel Rare Pair Bingo 2019 [9]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Alpha Eddie Brock, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Heats are Complicated, Omega Tony Stark, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 12:40:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20471183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathsweetqueen/pseuds/deathsweetqueen
Summary: Tony meets his soulmate at an unfortunate gala over ten years ago. He has in his hand a glass of scotch, when a pleasant-sounding voice reaches his ear and forces him to turn.“Mr Stark, a few questions?”Tony blows out a breath between his teeth. “I don’t do shit with the press unless it’s pre-planned, and I’ve had at least six months’ notice. Make an appointment with my assistant like everyone else.”“Man, you’re one hell of an arrogant prick, aren’t you?”Tony takes one look at his new assailant, tall and blonde and built like a line-backer, coupled with sneer and disbelief.And then, his assailant’s scent coats his nose and throat, and it was all over for Tony.





	flutter of an eyelash

**Author's Note:**

> This satisfies the "Venom & Eddie" square for my Marvel Rare Pair Bingo 2019 card.

Tony meets his soulmate at an unfortunate gala over ten years ago. He has in his hand a glass of scotch, when a pleasant-sounding voice reaches his ear and forces him to turn.

“Mr Stark, a few questions?”

Tony blows out a breath between his teeth. “I don’t do shit with the press unless it’s pre-planned, and I’ve had at least six months’ notice. Make an appointment with my assistant like everyone else.”

“Man, you’re one hell of an arrogant prick, aren’t you?”

Tony takes one look at his new assailant, tall and blonde and built like a line-backer, coupled with sneer and disbelief.

And then, his assailant’s scent coats his nose and throat, and it was all over for Tony.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Surprisingly, it’s his alpha assailant who makes the comment.

His face is bright with distaste, and Tony drags his eyes over his supposed alpha mate, his strawberry-blonde hair, blue eyes, tall, loping gait like a wolf.

“Of all the people in the fucking world,” his alpha mate shakes his head with no small amount of loathing and for all of Tony’s pride, his apathy, it stings something fierce. “It had to be capitalist, warmongering Tony fucking Stark.”

And with that glowing endorsement, Tony watches his alpha mate storm away.

* * *

Later that night, pathetic and drunk and in his workshop, he asks JARVIS who he was, and JARVIS tells him the journalist’s name, Tony’s alpha mate’s name is _Edward Brock._

* * *

Tony’s heats are shit nowadays, now that his body knows his alpha mate is out there, he even has a name, but there isn’t much he can do for them.

Every month, he hunkers down, wraps himself up in blankets, and bleeds through the first three days, until he starts to swelter with fever, his face flaming, and leaking between his thighs in a pleasant, hungry way.

There’s a gaping emptiness inside him, and he has to reach for the vibrator with the fake knot in his bedside (he’d never dealt with the store-bought crap and had instead made his own, with a vibrating capacity that far surpassed anything that could be bought from some sex shop – it could be controlled by his phone, it was eco-friendly, coupled with nanobots that could get into those hard-to-reach places, vibrated to the beat of his favourite rock hits, and completely hands-free – who the fuck needs an alpha when his mind is worth more than any fleshy, clinging knot ever will be?)

He closes his eyes and most certainly does not think of Eddie fucking Brock as the first orgasm of many shatters through him.

* * *

Tony doesn’t see Eddie for years, not until after Afghanistan.

He’s in his workshop, working on Mark II, when JARVIS alerts him to someone being at the door. He pauses, removing his goggles.

“You know, I have a front door just for kicks, right?” he says out loud. “How’d he get past the gates?”

“I let him through.”

Tony just stops, his brain, his lungs, his heart, all of it just stops. “JARVIS, what the fuck?”

“He is your alpha mate, sir. I believed him to be no threat,” JARVIS says, primly.

“He’s a stranger,” Tony practically snarls.

“Yes, and he answered my thorough interrogation to my satisfaction.”

“Oh, he did, did he?” Tony says, sceptically.

“Yes. I believe you may benefit from having this conversation,” JARVIS offers.

“And why’s that, J? The guy hasn’t given a shit about me for years; hell, he’s gone harder at me than any other fucking journalist in this fucking country. Soulmate, give me a fucking break.” He blows out a breath between his teeth and stands up, walking over to the door of the workshop. “Fine, I’ll go and see him, but if I deck him, it’s not on me, and if I kill him, you have to help me hide the body and be my fucking alibi, understood?”

“Understood, sir,” JARVIS says, full of satisfaction.

He made JARVIS in his image, and now, the AI has inherited all of Tony’s viciousness and pride.

Tony makes his way out of the workshop, climbing up the stairs and wandering through the depths of his mansion until he comes to the front door (strange, he doesn’t remember ever answering his own front door before – yet another thing he’d relied on JARVIS for, and honestly, for which, he should be relying on JARVIS now, which really says something about his current circumstances). When Tony swings it open, Eddie is standing on the other side, hair darker, shoulders broader, than Tony remembers seeing him.

He’s staring at his feet, when Tony opens the door, and his alpha scent is such a creature comfort that Tony finds himself leaning forwards, hating himself for it.

“Brock,” he says, as neutrally as he can.

“Hi, Tony,” Eddie says, shyly, scuffing his foot against the stone of Tony’s porch. “Your, uh, your robot butler let me in through the gates-”

“Yeah, he told me. Why are you here?” Tony asks, coldly, setting his shoulders in a defensive slant. “I thought you made your feelings on me perfectly clear.”

“Look, about that night-”

“I’m not interested in hearing any excuses.”

“Tony, just listen to me-”

“Like I said, I’m not fucking interested.”

“For fuck’s sake, Stark, will you just let me talk?” Eddie finally shouts, full of hot, liquid anger, souring the scent of him in the air.

“What?” Tony demands, crossing his arms over his chest.

Eddie takes a deep breath. “I just wanted to check if you were alright,” he says, tonelessly.

“I’m fine,” Tony says, blankly. “I just spent the last three months trapped in a cave, while terrorists drowned me and beat me and denied me food and water and demanded that I build them weapons so they could torment even more people. But, they smelled that I was taken, and I guess there’s some unspoken terrorist code that you don’t rape taken omegas. So, there’s always a silver lining.”

The second that Tony says the word _rape_, Eddie flinches with his full body and looks away.

“But yeah, I’m doing fine. What are you doing here? Frankly, that’s more interesting? Did you think being my alpha mate would score you interview points, that I’d shed some deep, dirty, filthy secret about my time away that I wouldn’t with someone else? Did you think _oh, I haven’t seen him in years, but this could make my fucking career, and god knows Stark’s probably fucked up to hell by what happened, he’s probably a soft touch and I’ve got an in that all those other reporters don’t have_? Did you think, _oh, he probably just needs a little massaging and then, it’ll all come spilling out of him_? Did you think I’d bare my tongue and my teeth and my insides for you because I scented you a couple of years ago at a party and realised you were the one that the universe made for me?”

Then, something else dawns on him.

He flashes a strained, brittle smile at him. “Or wait, let me guess, you got sick of using your hand or a fucking fleshlight, so you decided to come and get yourself some warm, wet omega to get your knot off, right? I guess spite has its limits. Did you think you’d poke me for your career, and then give me another poke for something else?”

“That’s not fair,” Eddie says, lowly.

“Oh, really, are you sure about that? Then, what’s with the absentee act for the last couple of years, huh? What could’ve possibly changed? You called me capitalist and warmongering the first time we met. I might have stopped weapons’ production, but the capitalism hasn’t changed, baby. Do you only half hate me now? Is that it?”

“I never hated you,” Eddie insists.

“Bullshit,” Tony scoffs. “I’ve made you many pay cheques, haven’t I? I know ‘cause I’ve read every single article you’ve ever done me. None of them were kind, none of them were ever fucking merciful. So, what are you doing here, Eddie? Just tell me. I frankly don’t have the bandwidth for any of this,” he says, his shoulders deflating.

“I just, I really just wanted to see if you were okay,” Eddie says, quietly. He rubs a hand over the thick head of his hair. “Look, I know what you probably think of me. I know… I know I’ve done shit, I’ve not been a good alpha to you, I know that. I just… look, I saw the news, when you were taken, and it was like I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think, all I thought about was you. And then, when I saw you were back, you were safe, I just… I had to come and see you, I had to see how you were doing, if you, well, if you needed me.”

Tony opens his mouth to fling even more vitriol at him for the gall.

“And I know, I know, you probably didn’t need me, never needed me,” Eddie says, quickly. “I just… I wanted to see if you were okay.”

He finishes, lamely, as if that was all the grand speech he’d likely planned in front of his bathroom mirror had amounted to.

“I’m fine,” Tony says, voice flat, dead.

“Are you sure?” Eddie’s bright eyes size him up like a horse at a market.

“I’m fine,” Tony says, sternly. “They didn’t kill me. I’m still alive. I’m still here.”

_They couldn’t kill me. I can’t be killed that easily._

“You sure are,” Eddie says, soft and sad. “I just… I know, I’ve heard stories about the Ten Rings, I know what they do to people, I just… did they hurt you?”

“I’m not giving you a fucking soundbite, okay,” Tony barks.

“I’m not asking for a fucking soundbite!” Eddie finally shouts. “For fuck’s sake, Tony, I haven’t slept in three fucking months!”

“What a coincidence, neither have I,” Tony says, dryly.

“Tony, please,” Eddie begs. “I just… I haven’t slept, I don’t eat much, I’ve been sick with worry, and I just wanted to check on you. Tony, _please_, please.”

“What do you want from me?” Tony asks, sending him a blameworthy, weary look. “Years ago, you thought I was a waste of space and had no problem telling that to my face, and today, you’re on my doorstep because I was kidnapped by terrorists and what, you feel _guilty_? I don’t need guilt in my life, Eddie.”

“I know, I know,” Eddie says, quickly. “I just… can we talk? Just talk, nothing else, and I won’t… I’m not recording or anything. I just want to talk.”

Tony is a weak, weak man (if his father was alive, he might have sneered _that’s what you get with omegas, all slick and no substance_), and he lets Eddie inside.

* * *

Tony is by no means a homemaker and has always sucked at being a good host, so all he can and will offer Eddie is a tall glass of cool water.

Eddie takes it gratefully and looks around, sharp eyes taking everything in.

It doesn’t matter though; any and all electronic devices would have ceased to work the second that Eddie crossed the gate – JARVIS would have made sure of it, and he’s a savage bitch when he wants to be.

“You, uh, you have a really nice home,” Eddie says, awkwardly.

“Thank you,” Tony says, coldly. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

“I just… I’m really sorry about what happened to you,” Eddie says, quietly. “When I heard, it was like, it was like my heart just dropped right into my stomach. I, uh, I contacted the company? They put me through to your PA, Ms Potts? She, uh, she had some choice words for me and then put the phone down.”

Tony swells with pride; God, he owes Pepper such a fucking raise.

“But she did give me a ring when you were found. She’s, uh, she’s good people.”

“Yeah, she is,” Tony says, resoundingly.

“I just… I wanted to apologise for what I said, when we met that first time. I was unfair and presumptuous and, uh, hasty. I didn’t know you and I made assumptions about you, and that wasn’t fair.”

Tony shrugs, stonily. “You had your opinions. Not like I’ve never heard them before.”

“Yeah, but, not in that context, not when we both just realised… uh, what we _are_ to each other? That wasn’t fair, and I guess, after you were taken, I realised maybe I was wrong? Maybe I shouldn’t have stayed away? So, yeah, I came here. I just wanted to talk to you, see if we could, I don’t know, start again?”

_You have got to be fucking kidding me._

“I shouldn’t…” Tony practically shakes, half-sick with rage, his scent turning sour and thick. “I shouldn’t have had to have been fucking kidnapped and tortured for months for you to see me as a person. I was a person _before_, I was a person when you met me, and you called me a capitalist, warmongering prick. I was a person _then_, Brock, and you didn’t give a shit. You don’t get to come here now and feel sorry for me, feel any sort of fucking empathy for me, when you had nothing for me back then. I am still the same person. I have not changed, not that much, and I know what you really think of me.”

“That’s not… that’s not what I meant,” Eddie argues.

Tony snorts.

“It’s not! It’s not…” Eddie sighs. “I’m just… I’m going about this the wrong way, aren’t I?”

“Well, you’ve pretty much said the wrong thing right from Day 1, which, to me, seems like a yes,” Tony says, dryly.

“Can we, uh, can we maybe start again? I know I’ve said shit and done shit and I’m sorry, really fucking sorry, but do you think we can start again?” Eddie asks, hopefully.

Tony drags his hand over his face, marked with new lines. He presses his hand to his stomach. “I’m going into my heat in three days,” he says, thinly. “Would you like to help me through it?”

Eddie blinks up at him. “You’d, uh, you’d be okay with me doing that?” he asks, uncertainly. “I mean, you were pretty pissed off and you’d be okay with me having sex with you?”

Tony lifts his eyebrow. “Are you objecting?” he asks, dryly.

“No,” Eddie says, quickly. “But, like, I don’t want us to jump into something that’s going to make us regret it later on.”

“You think you’re going to regret having sex with me?” Tony asks, sceptically.

“Well, no,” Eddie admits, grudgingly. “But are you sure? I mean, it just doesn’t seem like the most healthy-”

“You know, I hate that people seem to think that sex absolutely has to be this expression emotion or what-the-fuck-ever. Sometimes, it’s just sex, and frankly, I’m interested in fuck-all with you unless you can prove to me that you can make me come like a racehorse,” Tony says, bluntly.

Eddie promptly squawks. “You doubting me?” he asks, face flaming.

Tony slides to his feet. “You want to give me a demonstration?” he offers, slyly.

Eddie breathes sharp and hot, his scent flaring thick. “Now? I mean, you’re not in your heat yet, are you?” he asks, blinking up at him with huge eyes.

“I’m not, but you gotta work _up_ to my heat, Brock. You don’t just get the job without going to the interview,” Tony says, his voice low and laced with honey, staring down at his alpha mate through the half-dark of his lidded eyes.

Eddie swallows, thickly, a pink stain across his pale cheekbones. “You’re sure?” he rasps.

Tony rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure.” He saunters off towards the stairs. “Come or don’t come, I definitely will be.”

There’s an indignant pause and a scuffle and something crashing down to the ground. When Tony turns around, he starts laughing at the sight of Eddie on the ground, having tripped over Tony’s coffee table, staring at the space he should have been occupying with dazed eyes.

“Yeah, this is going off to a good start,” he says, satisfied.


End file.
